As we walked through the interior of the boat, my gaze bounced all around. The huge windows on both sides offset the darker nature of the mahogany and modern brass fittings and fixtures. The built-in sofas were cozy, luxurious, off-white, with a scattering of throw pillows that seemed to pull color from the art. There was a huge twelve-seater dining table.

“The paintings …” I stammered. “I mean, are they real? Surely not at sea?” I couldn’t help but blurt as I followed Andrea. The carpet looked lush and soft despite being a tightly knitted weave. It was probably some sort of marine-grade fiber meant to withstand the realities of life at sea while looking like it could protect the precious toes of the one percent.

Andrea slowed. “Most of them are high end reproductions of the art the Pascales have at their estate in Valbonne. And they’re protected. It’s a fine film covering them that allows for the natural colors to show through but protects the canvas from mildew and the paint from ultraviolet rays. Everything is protected. The fabrics are stain proof. Of course, with a child on board and the odd inebriated guest, one has to take precautions.” She turned to me fully while stepping backward. “You drink?”

“Uh, I won’t be an inebriated guest if that’s what you mean?”

She grinned. “Nah. Didn’t mean anything by it. We keep the drinking for terra firma and keep it extremely low key.” She turned back around and began down a set of stairs, dipping her head to the side even though she’d have easily cleared the space. “But when you have a night off, you should come out with us. The crew, I mean. Most nights you’ll probably eat with Dauphine and Mr. Pascale.”

I climbed down after her. My chest immediately tightened in the smaller, darker space. I forced myself to breathe slowly. I could do this. I had to do this.

“It depends on Mr. P’s schedule.” She opened the latch on a lacquered wooden door to her right. “This is you. Dauphine is to your left. And temporarily Mr. P. is …” She nodded ahead toward the cabin opposite mine and her voice lowered. “He’ll be in there. Since Mrs. Pascale passed away, Dauphine has sometimes had trouble sleeping. Nightmares. Mr. P likes to be close to his daughter. I guess until you settle in, he’ll want to stay close by.”

Poor little girl. “Understandable. So, is it okay to ask? What happened to Mrs. Pascale? And why the security concern when we got to the port?” I stepped in through the wooden door to what was to be my cabin. There was a small—oh my God, tiny—window. But the room was more spacious than I’d imagined. The bed was queen-sized and covered in luxurious white bedding and pale pink and gray throw cushions. I drew a deep breath.